


Damaged, But still alive.

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF John Watson, Hurt John Watson, Hurt Sherlock Holmes, I should probably tag more things but.., Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Torture, after TRF, angsty, pinning, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-06-28 01:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15697176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: John caught his reflection in the window of the coffee shop as he walked by, he stopped for a moment almost not recognize the man staring back at him. He had lost more weight than he thought and his beard was now long and unkempt same as his hair. What if Sherlock could see him now, would he even know who he was. But then that didn't matter, he chastised himself before he continued walking, Sherlock was dead and he was not coming back.John rounded the corner and headed for his hiding spot far from the prying eyes of the CCTV cameras that still seemed to follow him each day. He had gotten good at staying out of sight from them. You would think Mycroft had better things to do than to watch his dead brother's friend wonder the streets and fall apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Dañado, pero todavía vivo.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19345282) by [randomfandoms7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomfandoms7/pseuds/randomfandoms7)



> This was written for the August #always1895 prompt of Bearded John. It did end up full of angst, though I did cut out a lot of the angst I had planned. So good luck and let me know what you thought. Comment here or visit me on twitter @Octoberisblue. I hope you like it at least a little.

John caught his reflection in the window of the coffee shop as he walked by, he stopped for a moment almost not recognize the man staring back at him. He had lost more weight than he thought and his beard was now long and unkempt same as his hair. What if Sherlock could see him now, would he even know who he was.  _But then that didn't matter,_  he chastised himself before he continued walking,  _Sherlock was dead and he was not coming back._   

John rounded the corner and headed for his hiding spot far from the prying eyes of the CCTV cameras that still seemed to follow him each day. He had gotten good at staying out of sight from them.  _You would think Mycroft had better things to do than to watch his dead brother's friend wonder_ _the streets_ _and fall apart._  

John quickly ducked in to his bolt hole and curled up in his blankets, wanting the world to disappear for just a short time. He pulled the bottle of whiskey out of his jacket pocket and took a long drink, willing it to drop him in to a dreamless sleep.  

He didn't want to think about the fall, or of losing Sherlock or how he had wondered their flat as a mere shell of himself, sleeping in Sherlock's bed, thinking of ending it all. In the end he couldn't bring himself pull the trigger, instead he had just disappeared one day, walking out the door with a few items in his bag.  

He couldn't live at the flat without Sherlock and he could not go back to a bedsit somewhere, so he went for the streets instead, figuring maybe he could make a difference out there. He needed something to do, a way to feel useful, but where everything didn't remind him of what he lost.   

Every so often he would meet with Lestrade to get medical supplies and let him know he was okay, before disappearing again. He spent his days helping the homeless, that he came across while walking around the city. It helped keep his mind busy and as long as he avoided certain areas of the city, it also kept the ghosts at bay.  

The flat, St.Barts, the clinic and the Met were all off limits, nothing would bring the memories faster than one of those places. John took another pull from the bottle in his hand, while pressing his other hand to the side of his head, wishing his brain would stop bring up the memories, he so desperately wanted to forgot right now.  

It's not that he wanted to forget Sherlock. He loved Sherlock more than anything, but he had realized it too late. Only after the fall that claimed Sherlock's life, did he see that his feelings were more than friendship. Only after losing the only man he would ever love; did he see what they could have been. Now it was all too late.  

John pulled his blankets close around him and slowly drifted off to sleep, tomorrow he needed to head along the Thames and check on a few of his patients that lived down there. Another day, another person to save, since he couldn't save Sherlock or himself, he tried each day to help someone else, it's what kept him alive in this dark world.  

 

The next morning, John woke with a headache that reminded him, he was still alive. He slowly climbed out of his hiding spot, grabbed his bag and began his day, just like he did each day. When he reached the bridge over the Thames, he could see Mary the nurse sitting on a bench waiting for him. She often came along on her day off to help him with the homeless, he wasn't sure why she did, she never said and he never asked. The less talking the better, she always brought him coffee and something to eat each time she came.  

John gave her a nod and thanked her for the food, before sitting on a bench to enjoy the warm coffee. She rattled on about things in her day and the supplies she brought with her. He only noticed that he wasn't listening to her, when she stopped talking and stared at him.  

"Will? Did you hear what I said?" She asked again.  

Even after a year, he was still getting use to his name being Will instead of John. There was no more John Watson. Easier to be someone else. _William Sherlock Scott Holmes that’s the whole of it, probably not the best way to not think about Sherlock each day. But then he who was he kidding, he was going to think of him either way._  

"I'm sorry Mary, I am a bit slow this morning. What did you say?" 

"I'll say." She huffed. "I said I heard a rumor on my way here this morning that the Great Sherlock Holmes is in fact alive! I mean what are the chances that is true? What man could fall 4 stories and live?"  

She kept going on, but John had stopped listening after she had said Sherlock was alive, in fact he had stopped breathing as well.  _Could it be true, could Sherlock be alive?_  He had to know and he had to know now.  

"I'm sorry Mary, but I have to go. Thank you for the coffee and scone." He said quickly as he stood up and headed straight for Baker Street. He had to check, had to know for sure. Had he not been in such a hurry, maybe he would have caught the look in Mary's eyes when he stood or the fact she quickly sent a text right after he left or that she followed him from a distance.  

But he didn't, he was to occupied with whether Sherlock was really alive or not. His heart was racing so hard, John felt like he couldn’t breathe. Once he reached Baker Street, he lost his nerve and stopped across the street looking up at the windows.  _What if it wasn't true... What if it was just a rumor and Sherlock was still dead..._ He didn’t know if his heart could deal with more heartbreak or being back in Baker street if Sherlock was still dead. He took a few more steps towards the building then stopped again.  _If_ _Sherlock was alive would_ _he even be here?_  John stared up at the windows of 221b Baker street for a moment before turning and walking away back towards his bolt hole in the alley. He would contact Lestrade and see if he had heard anything about Sherlock being alive. 

He glanced over his shoulder, checking behind him but missing the curtains being pushed aside as Sherlock looked down at the street just catching sight of a scruffy blond homeless man turning the corner.  

Sherlock closed the curtains once again turning back towards his brother, who sat in John's chair telling him what he knew about John.  

"As I have said, Brother mine. I have tried to keep track of him over the past 2 years. It was easier when he lived here, but when he took to the streets a year ago. I can only find him when he wants to be found. Here is the most recent photo we have of him, taking 2 weeks ago."  

Sherlock took the folder from Mycroft, trying to keep his angry in check. He was angry that Mycroft had let John out of his sights. He was suppose to watch out for John, while Sherlock was away.  

Yelling at Mycroft may make him feel better right now, but it would not get him any closer to finding John. The photo showed a thin John Watson with scruffy beard and his hair was long, quite long for John in fact. His beautiful blue eyes were distressingly sorrowful. They made Sherlock’s heart hurt more than ever. 

He run the tip of his fingers over the photo, stroking John's cheek. He wondered what the beard would feel like on his fingertips, his neck and other parts of his body. Two years had done nothing to help him get over John, if anything he was more in love with the man than when he fell off that roof and made John watch him die. 

 _Would John forgive him for what he put him through the past 2 years?_ Sherlock sighed, He wouldn't know until he found the man and asked him. But that was easier said than done, find John was proving difficult. He needed to find him, John was still in danger, there was still one sniper that Sherlock hadn't found, John's...  

No matter where he looked, this person was hidden from him, so after discussing it with Mycroft, he had come home. Deciding the best way to draw the person out was to become Sherlock again, but he need to find John first before the sniper knew he was alive. He had to protect the man or the last 2 years would have been for nothing.  

He turned back to Mycroft, closing the folder as he did. First things first, Find John, Protect John and then beg John to forgive him.  

"What is the next step of your brilliant plan, Brother?" Sherlock asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm.  

Mycroft merely raised an eyebrow at him, before going over the details of the plan to bring the sniper to light and protect John as well. He already planned to let Lestrade know about Sherlock, since he was the only one John reached out to every so often. That could be the fastest way to find John.  

 

\------------------------ 

 

John went to the closest payphone and called Lestrade. Greg hadn’t heard anything about Sherlock being alive. John’s paranoia started to creeping up,  _why would M_ _ary_ _tell him that Sherlock was alive? Where had she hear it from? Was it random or was someone was just trying to lure John out? What if Moriarty was still alive and wanted John dead too?  How did Mary know who he was or didn’t she?_  

“Greg, something is not right... I think I'm going to really disappear for a while...”  

John chewed on the side of his lip, while his brain whirled over every possible reason this Sherlock rumor had come up now.  _It had been 2 years... Maybe Mycroft had finally got Sherlock’s name cleared. Mycroft?! No, he couldn’t ask Mycroft about Sherlock. They hadn’t spoken since John had laid in to him about not caring enough for Sherlock and about clearing Sherlock’s name even though he was dead now._ _Beside he couldn’t handle the pitiful look Mycroft would give him, if John asked and Sherlock was still dead._  

No, John would do this on his own, alone is what he has, alone protects him. He wasn’t going to lose any more people close to him. If something happened to him that would okay, there was nothing holding him here anymore.  

“John, you don’t have to deal with this alone. Why don’t you come stay with me for a while? I will contact Mycroft and see what he says about all of this.” Greg could be heard saying through the phone. “John? John? Are you there?”  

John had already dropped the phone without hanging up and was headed to collect his belongings before moving to a new hiding spot, maybe underground.  

 

\---------------------------- 

 

Mycroft hung up the phone with Lestrade and checked with Anthea, before turning towards Sherlock, who sat in his chair hands steepled under his chin.  

“It appears John has already heard you may be alive and has contacted Lestrade. Since Gregory didn’t know anything at the time. John is sure it’s all a lie.”  

Sherlock looked up sharply at his brother standing in the middle of the flat.  

“He is running, isn’t he? He thinks someone is after him.” Sherlock closed his eyes.  _Where would John go, ever the soldier, always on alert. But where..._  

“It seems he was rambling something about a girl named Mary telling him and going underground, before just walking away from the phone. Anthea says John called Gregory from a payphone just around the corner from here.” Mycroft continued.  “Seems he was headed here, but called Lestrade first.”  

“Or after.... John, you were coming here to check, weren’t you? What changed your mind?” Sherlock spoke more to himself than his brother.  _Wait, could that scruffy blond homeless man turning the corner have been John?!_   “Mycroft, you need to fix this now! We need to find him now before the sniper does and I have a feeling we may be too late already.”  

Sherlock quickly stood and moved to his room donning his street clothes, so not to stand out while he searched for John. 

“You know you shouldn’t go out there just yet, not until we have him. If they see you before we have him, things could get worse.”  

Sherlock stopped in front of his brother, his eyes held Mycroft’s daring him to stop him from walking out the door. He was not just going to sit here and wait, while the man he loved was out in the streets and in danger. He would find John and protect him like he had been for the last two years.  

   
“This is John, we are talking about. I will not sit here and wait for you to do something, not now that he is clearly panicking and running.” Sherlock challenged.  

“At least wait until it is dark before going out. If anyone is watching the flat, they will be less likely to see you at that point.”  

Damn Mycroft was right. Sherlock couldn’t just go running out to find John. He was supposed to stay hidden for now, but as soon as it’s dark, he was leaving. He huffed at Mycroft before throwing himself on the couch and in to his mind palace to map where to best look for John.  

 _His beautiful, clever_ _Soldier_ _. Where would you go? Where would you feel safe besides here?_  

 

\-------------------- 

 

John could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, someone was watching him, following him as he cut through alleys and past by empty warehouses. He needed to lose them and get somewhere safe fast. He should have gone back to Baker street or to Greg’s, but it was too late for that now.  

John knew the moment he was in trouble, he felt the air shift just before it was lights out. He never saw them coming. Whoever this was, was good.  

 _Damn_ _,_ _what did they want with him? Who were they? Now what... No one knew where he was and the only person left to care was Greg. How long before he came looking for him? Would he even find him? Would he be dead by then?_  

 

 _\------------------------_  

 

Sherlock pulled on a hooded sweat shirt, making sure the hood covered his hair and face. Before leaving he went up in to John’s old room, searching until he came up with John’s gun, tucked in the bottom drawer of the closet. He checked for ammo then ducked out the back door of the flat and headed to where John had turned the corner earlier that day. He should have known it was John and followed him immediately instead of waiting. 

 _What if he was too late?_  God he couldn’t even think about that. He could not lose John now, not when he was so close. He pushed a hand against his chest pressing where his heart ached for John. He needs to focus, needs to find John before it’s too late. First, he would get the homeless network activated, they could cover more ground that way.  _I’m coming John._   

 

\------------------------ 

 

John woke to the sound of voices around him. Two men and a woman. He kept his breathing even, hoping they would not notice he was no longer unconscious. Without opening his eyes, he began to take stock of everything he could. He was tied to a chair in what sounded like a large room, from the way the voices carried. His head ached where they hit him and the ties at his hands and feet were well tied, from what he could tell without moving.  

He then started listening to the voices around him. It seems they had heard Sherlock was still alive and were going to use him to find out where Sherlock was hiding.  _Well good luck, even if Sherlock was alive and in hiding, John wouldn’t give him up. But Sherlock wasn’t alive, he was dead. Couldn’t they just finish him off. Anything was better than living day to day with this broken heart in his chest. He_ _desperately_ _wanted to believe Sherlock was still alive out there somewhere, but it had been two years._ _Surely,_ _he would have contacted John if he was still alive at this point._  

John must have made a noise, because everything went quiet around him.  

“I think he is coming around?” Said one of the men. 

“It’s about time. Thought he was never going to wake up.” The second man piped in.  

“Can I just get my money now? So, I can leave?” This time it’s the woman, she sounded bored.  

Oh! John knew that voice. Oh go _d, it was Mary._   _This is why he has trust issues. How did she know who he was?_  

Thud! John’s whole face vibrated with a punch that rattled his teeth and may have broken his nose. He could feel the blood running already.  

“You hit like a girl.” He snarked as he spit blood before slowly opened his eyes to the group standing in front of him. He narrowed his eyes giving them his Captain glare as he took them all in. 

The first man was tall, built and most likely ex-military from the way he stood and punched. The second man was smaller, but looked like ex-military as well. Then there was Mary. She was dressed all in black, even her blond hair was cover in a black hat. Who was this person, she didn’t even look like herself. She caught him glaring and an evil grin spread across her face.  

“Didn’t see this coming did you, John? Sweet little Mary helping the homeless on her day off. Listening to you ramble on and on to yourself. Sherlock this and Sherlock that.” She sneered back at him. “Bet you didn’t notice that you do that? Did you?” 

John felt sick that he hadn’t picked up on her true nature and that she had known who he was the whole time. It made him almost glad Sherlock wasn’t alive to see how much he had let slip, though if Sherlock was alive then things would be different.  

“Enough!” Interrupted the first man before turning to John. “Tell us where Sherlock Holmes in hiding?”  

John laughed “You are kidding right? Sherlock Holmes is dead. Burying him myself. Don’t you watch the news? It’s been two years.”  

The bigger man drove multiple punches into John’s face and stomach. Leaving John gasping for air.  

Grabbing John’s hair, he pulled John’s head up from his chest. “Does it look like I am joking?” He snarled shoving John’s head back down roughly before throwing more punches.  

John tried to roll with them, but each one rocked his head harder than the one before. Soon he was just trying to stay conscious. 

“We are never going to get anything out of him, if you kill him Seb.”   

 

\------------------ 

 

Sherlock had alerted the homeless network and was now searching spots John had been spotted in over the last few weeks. No one seems to know where John was living. Most said he was always moving, couldn’t bare one spot for very long. He would appear each day to help anyone he found while wondering the city, talking to himself. Sherlock began to wonder how much John had changed and would the man Sherlock fell in love with still be in there. Sherlock knew he would take John in any condition he could get, he just wanted John back.  He should never have left him behind...  

 

\---------------------- 

 

The next time John came to the room was empty. He tried to feel how much damage was done. His left eye was swelled shut, nose was most likely broken, he knew there was cuts all across his face and lips from the amount of dried blood in his beard when he tried to move his face. Everything ached across his chest as well, there may even be a cracked rib or two. 

 Apparently “Seb” didn’t like being laughed at, probably not the best idea John had, but he was past caring. They didn’t blindfold him or hide their faces, which meant John wasn’t going to make it out of here alive. Focusing on the physical pain he felt right now was a nice relief from the constant heartache of missing Sherlock.  

He really should be planning a way to escape from here, but did it really matter whether he died here or out on the street in a year or so. Then again maybe he should break free and rid the world of these men, who would most likely continue doing this to other people, weaker people.  

Soon there was door slamming shut across the warehouse and Seb started towards John. His face was twisted in anger, John could he was seething even from the distance.   

“I’m going to ask one more time. Where is Sherlock Holmes?! I know he is alive!” He yelled throwing a punch as he asked.  

John reeled from the punch before yelling back “Sherlock Holmes is dead!! Get that through your thick skull! He is dead and he is not coming back!”  

Seb was fully enraged with John’s answers, he crossed the room to pick up a discarded pipe. When he started back towards John, there was a scowl in his eyes that said this is it.  

“Sherlock Holmes doesn’t get to kill the best man that ever lived and then disappear to continue living his life. No, that is not how this works. You are going to tell me where he is hiding, so I can punish him for taking Jim away from me or I’m going to kill you.” This time Seb’s voice was perfectly calm.    

John matched Seb’s calm voice with as much fearlessness as he could muster. “Sherlock Holmes was a great man and Jim Moriarty was the scum of the earth, even if Sherlock was somehow alive, which he isn’t, I wouldn’t tell you where he was. So, I guess you are just going to have to kill me.”  

Seb smiled wickedly at John before bring the pipe down against John’s legs, ribs and arms repeatedly. Each blow causing John to gasp as pain shot through his body. He would not give Seb the satisfaction of crying out. He heard several bones crack before he could no longer hold back the screams. He was barely conscious and his chair had falling over on its side, pinching his right arm between the floor and chair, when the second man came in to the building.  

“Seb!! Stop!! We need him alive if we are going use him as bait to find Sherlock Holmes!!”  

As the pipe stopped connecting with his body, John lost his grip on consciousness and slipped away.  

 

\--------------------------- 

 

Three days, since John disappeared and Sherlock was no closer to finding him or the sniper. He had found John’s bolt hole, curling up in there, he tried to think of where John would go from here. He had the homeless network combing warehouses and underground tunnels. He had been trying to track down “Mary” the nurse that John had told Greg about, but so far, she didn’t exist. He was frustrated and running out of ideas, when Mycroft sent him a text.  

 **Brother mine,** **we** **have received this disturbing image. Forwarding now. MH**  

 **We are** **trying track where it was sent from or who sent it. Will keep you posted. MH**  

Sherlock opened the attachment and felt his world crumble and his heart stop. The image was of John bound to a chair, his face was almost unrecognizable from the amount of bruises and cuts, his head hung to his chest, so unconscious then. Sherlock searched over the photo thoroughly deducing anything he could. A metal pipe lay by John’s feet, did they have used that on him? If they did, how bad was the damage hidden under John’s clothes. 

He needed to find John now. There was no time to lose, it had already been 3 days and this photo could be a day or two old. Sherlock was able to narrow the search field from the bricks behind John in the photo. He quickly informed the homeless network and Mycroft of the new area where John was most likely being kept and started off at a run. It didn’t matter now if anyone saw him, they already had John.  

 

 --------------------------- 

 

John felt the pain before he became fully conscious. His body had taking a beating, that left him with broken ribs, a crack or broken right arm and the same with his left leg. He couldn’t move either to see if they were fully broken or just cracked. His left eye was still swollen shut and his nose was defiantly broken. Every part of his body hurt, he could barely breath because of his ribs.  

John lifted his head and opened his good eye to the noise coming across the room, Seb was bring a big box over, setting it in front of John, before placing a laptop on the box.  

“So, it seems the photo of you, we sent Sherlock’s brother made it in to the right hands.” Seb sneered. “Your boyfriend has come out of hiding and he is playing right in to our trap.”  

The evil grin that played across Seb’s face as he turned the laptop to face John, turned John’s stomach. Once he could see the screen John felt his whole world crash. The screen showed a sniper rife on a roof looking down with a heat signature camera at a single man moving through the dark down an alley outside of a warehouse.  

 _Oh god no_. John knew that figure anywhere, the way it moved, he could practically see the coat swirling out behind him as he creeped down the alley. Seemingly unaware of the sniper rife that watched him from the building roof.  

 _How was he alive, why is John only learning this now?_ _Here_ _he_ _was_ _living a half-life for two years, barely hanging on most days. Guess that says a lot for priority level John was in Sherlock’s life._  

John was seething in his angry at Sherlock, when the shot rang out and the figure dropped. John could hear the shot both on the laptop and outside. He could hear someone screaming, it took him several moments to realize that it was him screaming.  

Seb was loving every moment of watching John react to seeing Sherlock shot. John gritted his teeth together and began to work at the ties that held his arms and hands to the chair. Seb was going to pay for this, they all were, John wouldn’t stop until they were all dead.  

Seb was brimming with happiness as he waltzed out the door, John was surprised he wasn’t screaming “Best day ever” at the top of his lungs as he walked. John took his angry at Sherlock for lying and then coming back only to get shot and poured it in to getting free. He took the angry towards Mary for lying and Mycroft for not caring about Sherlock or John,  _(arrogant git must have known Sherlock was alive this whole time and never told John even though he was falling apart)_ and use it to fuel past the pain his whole body was feeling as he twisted and pulled at the ties. He focused on getting free and killing Seb with the pipe laying at his feet. 

John stilled his hands, looking up as the door open and Seb reentered the room dragging a limp body behind him.  _Oh God Sherlock..._  

 

Seb dragged Sherlock’s body to the front of John dropping him at John’s feet. Sherlock was limp, John could see blood soaking through the side of the hoodie that Sherlock wore, he could also see that Sherlock was still breathing.. for now... So, they had just winged him, Why? So, they could torture him too? No that was not happening, John was getting them both out of here. John was going to make sure Sherlock lived, so he could tell him how angry he was at him. 

“Here is the Great Sherlock Holmes!” Seb sneered and spit at Sherlock. “Not so great anymore.” He laughed. 

John was seeing red now, He was going to kill Seb slowly. While Seb was busy texting the other man that he had Sherlock, John was able to free his hands. With the adrenaline surging through his body, he grabbed the pipe on the floor and fling it at the back of Seb’s head, catching him just right. With Seb down, John had time to untie his feet and fall to the ground next to Sherlock.  

“Sherlock, you hang on, don’t you die on me!” John pulled up Sherlock’s shirt to check the wound. The bullet had gone through his side, John bunched up Sherlock’s shirt and pressed it to the wound. He dug into Sherlock’s pocket to find his phone, quickly calling Mycroft.  

“I need an ambulance here now, Mycroft! And a couple of body bags.” John yelled in the phone before dropping it.  

“Please hang on Sherlock. You need to help keep pressure on the wound. You can’t die on me again. I need you.” John whispered the last part as he continued to press and moved Sherlock’s arm to it rested across the wound to hold the pressure. 

“John” Sherlock croaked softly as his eye lids fluttered. 

“I’m right here.” John answered as he reached a hand to cup Sherlock’s cheek. 

As He did, he noticed Seb starting to stir, he reached behind Sherlock, pulling the gun that Sherlock had hid in the back of his jeans out. Good thing Seb was too busy gloating to have checked Sherlock for his phone or gun yet. Carefully he got to his feet, trying not to put weight on his left leg that was defiantly fractured and started towards Seb.  

John’s eyes were murderess as Seb looked up from the floor at him, there was surprise in his eyes as he watched John coming towards him.  

“You deserve everything you are about to receive. I hope it was all worth it.”  John thundered as his vision went red and he reached down to pick up the pipe laying near Seb. He raised the pipe about to bring to down on Seb with all the angry he felt behind the swing.  

 

“JOHN! Don’t do it.” Mycroft called from where he stood at the door with the EMTs. “I will have him dealt with as well as the additional man we caught outside.” 

John hesitated for a moment, wanting to inflict pain on the man that beat him and had Sherlock almost killed. He was standing there conflicted with how to proceed when he heard Sherlock call out to him. It came out barely a whisper. “John.”  

John dropped the pipe and turned back to where Sherlock was laying on the floor watching him. The EMTs had reached him now and were working to stop the bleeding before loading Sherlock on the stretcher. John felt all the adrenaline leave his body, before his legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor with Sherlock’s name on his lips.  

 

\----------------------------- 

 

Sherlock could hear the constant beep of the machines around him before he opened his eyes.  _So, hospital not dead_. That was good.  _John!_ Sherlock’s eyes flew open at that moment as he franticly looked around his room. Sitting in the chair next to his bed was Mycroft, beside him the room was empty.  

“He is not here, Brother mine.” Mycroft stated as he watched Sherlock closely.  

“Where is he?” Sherlock asked his voice shaking.  _Was John alive? Where was he?!_  

“They just took him back in for surgery again. He was doing okay after the first surgery, but he started to decline rapidly. He may have more internal bleeding then they thought. I am sorry all we can do is wait at this point. How are you feeling? Should I call the nurse?” Mycroft seemed worried.  

Sherlock shook his head no before turning it away from Mycroft, closing his eyes as the tears started to spill over. He was too late, to slow to save John.  

“He will put through, Sherlock. John is a fighter, you know this. You just need to take care of yourself right now. I will go check with the nurse for an update on him. You rest.” Mycroft said patting Sherlock’s forearm. 

 “I’m glad you are still alive; your loss would break me.” Mycroft added with a tight, sad smile on his face.  

 Sherlock heard his brother leave the room, his eyes were still closed, tears still falling as he slowly drifted back to sleep.  _I am so sorry_ _,_ _John._  

 

 _\----------------------------_  

 

John woke to the sounds of people around him.  _Was he captured again? What happened? Where was Sherlock?!_  

“Sherlock!!” John cried as he tried to opened his eyes and sit up. He was disoriented, but could feel hands trying to hold him down. “Let go of me! Sherlock! You won’t take me again! Sherlock!!” He tried fighting them off, but his body felt to weak.  

“Calm down. We need you to calm down, John. He is not going to do it! Someone sedate him now, before he hurts himself!”  

 

The next time John came around and opened his eyes, he could tell that he was in the hospital. He blinked a couple of times to get his eyes to focus and see his surroundings more precisely.  

“John?” Came a soft whisper near him. John turned his head to see Sherlock lying on a bed next to him reaching a hand out to him.  

“Sherlock! Oh, thank god.” John felt tears surge in his eyes at the sight of Sherlock being alive and next to him.  “I thought... I thought I lost you again.”  

“No, I’m here and I’m never leaving you again. I’m so sorry, John.” Sherlock whispered, his eyes had tears in them as well.  

John reached out his left hand to hold Sherlock’s out stretched hand. He closed his eyes and just took a moment to rejoice that Sherlock was alive and holding his hand.  

“Are you going to keep the beard?” Came a quiet voice. “I prefer...You should know I prefer my doctors clean shaven.”  

 John laughed despite the pain it caused him, when he did. He looked over at Sherlock to see him grinning back. With everything they had been through and had yet to talk about, here was Sherlock wondering about his facial hair.  _God, he loved this man_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys heal and deal with the aftermath of Sherlock being gone and what happened to them with Seb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started as a way for John to get revenge for what happened. But after deleting and rewriting 3 times. This was the story that wanted to be told. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

   John shifted in the hospital bed trying to find a spot that didn’t hurt any part of his battered and bruised body.  Everything ached no matter how he positioned himself.  The nurse had been in and giving him more pain meds, but he was still in pain. He had been in and out of sleep for the past week, barely awake long enough to eat or think about how he had held Sherlock’s hand briefly, when he had first woken up. They had not talked about it, but the next time John had woken, he almost reached for Sherlock. However, decided against it, in case it was a one-time thing for Sherlock, John didn’t want to push his luck.  

He continued shifting, finding no spot that didn’t hurt some part of his body.  

“John, are you, all right?” Sherlock asked from where he lay in the bed next to John’s. He was trying to pull his self, up turning towards John.  

“Hey, don’t try to sit up! You are supposed to be healing and resting. You are going to make your wound start bleeding at this rate.”  

“I could say the same about you.” Sherlock replied with one eyebrow raised as he watched John _._  

“Yeah, But I didn’t get shot, you git.” John countered.  

“No, you received a horrible beating that left you with a fractured left leg, a broken right arm, multiple broken and cracked ribs and internal bleeding that nearly killed you.” Sherlock all but shouted back.  

John took a moment to look at the emotions that were displayed across Sherlock’s face.  _Sadness, fear, angry and was that affection? Love? Did Sherlock Holmes care for someone else? Someone like John? Maybe John’s love wouldn’t be as unrequited as he thought._  

John was still having a hard time prepossessing that Sherlock was alive, here next to him and they were arguing like old times. There were things though that needed to be said and questions that needed answers.   

“So... Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room then?” John probed, giving Sherlock a questioning look. 

“Which would that be?”  

“Let’s start with where have you been the last 2 years and why you didn’t let me know you were alive all this time, while I grieved your loss and near took my own life you berk!” John barked back, wincing at the last part. He should have kept that to himself, but it was too late now. He was angry and the words had just kept spilling out.  _This talk was going well so far._  

Sherlock flinched. “John... I... I never thought... I had hoped, but then that was just me and I knew that you didn’t feel that way, then there was the snipers and I had to save you, Mrs. H and Lestrade, there was... there was no choice, no other way, but to jump...” He trailed off. 

 Sherlock then turned and laid back down on the bed, looking down at his hands as he fiddled with the blanket corner. John was at a loss for words as he just stared at Sherlock trying to take everything in.  _Snipers? No choice? Had to save me? What way did he feel that he thought I didn’t?_  

“Sherlock, what do you mean there were snipers and you had to save the three of us?” John pushed.  

“Just that. Moriarty had a sniper on each of you and they had orders to shoot each of you if they didn’t see me jump that day.” Sherlock replied softly. “After I jumped, I went in to hiding and then left to track down each sniper and associate of Moriarty’s. It wasn’t supposed to take very long, but I couldn’t find your sniper. He was the last one and I couldn’t find him. So, I came back to lure him out, but he had already found out I was alive and had taken you. That is why you couldn’t know I was alive before now. If they had known, they would have taken you sooner. Used you to find me...To stop me. ..”  

“You could have taken me with you! I could have helped you with all of this. But then again I am just your blogger and what would you need with one of those anyways.” John spat bitterly, turning his head to face away from Sherlock.   

“You always more than my blogger.” Came a quiet voice. “You are my conductor of light.”  

John refused to acknowledge the voice and kept his head turned.  _His conductor of light? Could Sherlock really think that..._  

John was angry at himself more than Sherlock at this point, angry that he was caught by Seb and beaten, angry that he couldn’t stop them from shooting Sherlock, angry he hadn’t got his chance to keep his word to Seb. He should have killed him right when he got free.  

He could feel the hot tears stinging his eyes. He would not cry, not right now, nor would he turn to face Sherlock yet. The last thing he needed right now was for Sherlock to see him crying again. _No wonder Sherlock didn’t want to take him along or tell him he was alive. But then Sherlock had said he had felt something for John._  

John was trying to wrap his head around this thought as he closed his eyes for a moment, willing the tears to fade.  

 

\------------------------ 

 

Sherlock lay silently thinking over everything he and John had said in the last few minutes. He had known John would be angry with him after what he done. He wondered though if John would forgive him for all the pain he caused and seemed to continue causing. Would John come back to Baker Street or continue living somewhere else. Hopefully not still on the streets. Sherlock felt his heart sink at the thought.  

Could he live here in London and not have John back at Baker Street if John choose not to come back. Could he be that selfless and watch the only man he would ever love walk away? Sherlock wasn’t sure he could survive losing John again after only just getting him back. He thought of all the scars and torture that inflicted on him, while he had been taking apart Moriarty’s network. He would do anything to keep John safe and alive, though had he known that John would take his loss so hard, he would have done things differently. He knew not telling John had been wrong, but it was the only way.  

He hoped John would understand and forgive him one day. He glanced over at John who was still facing the other way. He knew no matter what, he would take whatever John offered if anything at all.   

They stayed at the hospital for another week. Neither bring up the issues again, barely speaking to each other. John left the room each day for his physical therapy on his leg. Soon the doctor had come in to say they were being released today.  

Sherlock used the loo first, showering then dressing to leave. He was still struggling with the pain in his side, but his wound was healing acceptably and he was ready to go home.  He wasn’t sure how to check if John was coming back to Baker Street without just asking out right. Since they had hardly spoke this week, he was at a bit of loss.  

He left the loo and found John collecting his clothes.  

“The bathroom is all yours. I will arrange for a cab.”  

John nodded and moved to the loo, without any words, scarcely looking at Sherlock as he did. Sherlock tried to not show the hurt on his face. Would they get past this and at least be friends again...  

He had everything in order and a cab waiting downstairs, for when John emerged from the loo ready to go. Sherlock had arranged for John’s cane to be brought in, making it easier for him to move around. Thankfully John’s leg was healing swiftly, though his arm was still in a sling, but it was his right and not his dominate hand. He would still need his ribs bandaged, but another week and John should be more himself besides the arm. 

Sherlock was effectively wrapped up in his mind thinking about John’s injuries and how best to help him, if John would let him, that he almost didn’t hear John finish and prepare to exit the loo.  

When John stepped out, Sherlock inhaled sharply, his heart started racing in his chest. John had shaved off the beard. He stood before Sherlock with his hair still shaggy, but clean shaven, his dark blue eyes seemed to pierce Sherlock to the spot. Sherlock was having trouble controlling his breathing.  

Being just friends with John will never work. Sherlock craves more, he wants John more than he has wanted anything before. He stood there staring back at John unmoving, heart racing. Wanting nothing more than to close the distance between them and kiss John until neither could breathe. He wanted to put his hands-on John’s soft face and run his fingers through John’s shaggy hair. Not here though, it needed to happen at Baker street. 

“Come home with me.”  

 

\----------------------- 

John couldn’t trust his own eyes at the reactions he was seeing on Sherlock’s face when he stepped out of the loo. They both stood there for what seemed like forever, before Sherlock uttered four words that that gave John courage.  

“Come home with me.”  

“Yes, of course, yes.” John replied before his brain had even caught up. He took a hesitant step towards Sherlock, only to have Sherlock rapidly close the distance between them, pulling him into a light embrace, making sure not to put pressure on his arm. He wrapped his left arm around Sherlock’s waist, grabbing a hand full of coat as he did.  

He could smell Sherlock’s posh shampoo as Sherlock pressed him to his shoulder with a hand on the back of his neck and an arm around his shoulder. It was all John could do not to nuzzle or place a kiss on Sherlock’s long beautiful neck. Not the best idea right now. He was still upset with Sherlock and they still had matters to work out. But being this close to Sherlock, knowing Sherlock wanted him back at Baker Street, feeling Sherlock’s arms around him was tugging at all of his suppressed feelings.  

John was at war with his feelings, when Sherlock released him and stepped back, pressing John’s cane in to his hand.  

“We should go the cabbie is waiting.”  

John didn’t trust his voice at the moment. So, he merely nodded and followed Sherlock out of the room, down the hall and out of the hospital. He relied heavily on his cane as he walked, which brought back memories of how he had first met Sherlock in the lab here at St. Barts. As he watched the detective walking in front of him with coat swirling behind him, John thought about how lucky he was, that he had this chance, to see this again, to get to argue with Sherlock again, no longer just in his dreams...  

Once they were in the cab, John closed his eyes and reached between them, sliding his hand in to Sherlock’s. He wanted him to know he cared even if he was still upset.  

John gave Sherlock’s hand a gentle squeeze and hoped Sherlock wouldn’t pull away from him. As he squeezed, he heard the smallest sigh leave Sherlock’s lips, before Sherlock returned the pressure. John’s heart skipped a beat and he could feel a grin spread across his face. 

As the cab pulled up to Baker Street, John’s heart started racing for other reasons.  

Baker Street. 

Sherlock continued to hold his hand as they got out of the cab, paid the cabbie and were now standing in front of the door to 221B.  

Home... 

John let out a sigh, how long had it been since he entered this doorway.  

“One year, three months, six days.”  

John turned to look at the man standing beside him, smiling, he squeezed their linked hands. He never thought there would be a day, that he would enter baker street again with Sherlock by his side, much less holding his hand.  _God, he was so in love with this beautiful man._ _How could he not forgive_ _him._ _He was here. He was home. They were home together._  

 

\----------------- 

Sherlock let go of John’s hand and handing him his cane. As much as he wanted to help John in to the flat and up the stairs, he knew John won’t like being cuddled.  

Once inside, Sherlock turned towards John, taking his left hand again and placed his other hand on the side of John’s face. He watched as John leaned in to his hand, closing his eyes and let out a content sigh.  

“John, there is something I have been wanting to do for a long time, something I always meant to do...”  

He hesitated for a moment.  _Here goes everything_. He moved slightly forward, still holding John’s left hand, he slowly slid his other hand from John’s cheek to the back of his neck. He watched John’s tongue peek out and wet his lips before Sherlock leaned in placing a soft simple kiss.  

He felt a quiver run through his body as their lips met. It felt like a jolt of electricizing running through his veins. This was better than any high he had ever had. Kissing John felt right. He deepened the kiss more, now that he had started, he didn’t want to stop. He felt John’s good hand let go of his and snake between his coat and shirt to rest on his hip, pulling him a bit closer. Sherlock could feel the heat off John’s hand, as there was only the thin layer of Sherlock’s shirt between them.  

He tightened his grip on the back of John’s neck, using his other hand to pull John even closer until they were pressed together. He felt John moan against his lips as he held him tight. Sherlock had lost track of how long they had been kissing. He had meant to keep it simple, but he had no idea what kissing John would do to him.  

As they broke apart, both were panting, staring back at each other. Sherlock could see the craving and desire in John’s eyes. They both wanted this. How had he not observed this before, He wondered how long John had been masking his feels for Sherlock. He ran his hands through John’s hair as they stood in the sitting room.  

“John? Will you stay with me?-- In my room?” Sherlock asked, his voice faltering slightly. “It would be easier than the additional stairs to the other room. We can just rest, nothing more. I understand that you are upset with me, but I find that I don’t wish to be separated from you, now that we are home.”  

He hoped John would want him the same. He waited nervously for John’s answer, his hands still in John’s hair, holding his head.  

 

\---------------------- 

 

John could see the pleading, nervous, yearning look on Sherlock’s face as he had asked John to stay with him. John felt his heart tighten at the expressions, he still couldn’t believe that someone as amazing and brilliant as Sherlock could feel this way about him after everything. He was on his way to forgiving Sherlock for leaving him behind and not telling him, because he was alive and at the end of the day, John loved that brilliant man more than anything. He wasn’t going to waste more time hiding his feels or dwelling on the past.  

He turned his head, pressing a kiss in to Sherlock’s palm, before smiling and leaning in for another kiss on the lips.  

“There is no place I would rather be.”  

John heard Sherlock release the breath, he had been holding. He slowly reached for Sherlock’s hand and together they walked down the hall to Sherlock’s room.  

Shyly, they both striped to pants and vests, Sherlock helped John out of his sling and under the duvet, before going around to the other side and slipping under as well. They both laid there on their backs facing the ceiling, before Sherlock’s voice broke through quiet. 

“I’m glad you are here with me. At baker street. I... missed you.” 

John simply reached out and held Sherlock’s hand as they drifted off to sleep.  

The next morning, John woke to an armful of sleeping detective. Sometime during the night Sherlock must have moved in his sleep and was nestled against John’s good arm. There was now a riot of curls pressed just under John’s chin, he leaned down slightly to press a kiss on top of the curls.  

“You are warm.” Sherlock murmured as he snuggled closer.  

John giggled softly at the comment. Three weeks ago, John never thought he would laugh again. Yet, here he was wrapped in 6 feet of consulting detective giggling.  

“Why are you giggling at me?”  

John looked down at Sherlock’s upturned face with a confused look and giggled again, before placing a kiss on his lips.  

“Who would have ever thought Sherlock Holmes would be such a snuggler.”  

Sherlock huffed and snuggled closer to John.  

John could hear a bit of shuffling outside Sherlock’s door, before either could react, Mrs Hudson’s head poked in the door.  

“Sherlock, are you awake? Oh! Good morning boys. You have a visitor.” She smiled a knowing smile and closed the door behind her.  

“I guess we better get up and see who is here.”  

“John, are you not upset that she found us in here?” Sherlock asked anxiously, a worried look spread across his face. John thought of all the times, he had said he wasn’t gay in front of Sherlock, trying to pretend he wasn’t passionately in love with him. 

“No Sherlock, I don’t mind that she found us this way. Do you think I would kiss you and lay in here with you if I was worried?”  

Sherlock didn’t answer, he just began to separate himself from John.   

“Oh no you don’t.” John pulled Sherlock back flush against him, lifted his chin until Sherlock was looking him in the eyes, before catching his lips in a crushing kiss that left them both panting.  

“You will not retreat from me, Sherlock. I just got you back and I will not lose you again.”  

“Never again, my John.” Sherlock smiled up at John, his eyes filled with affection. “Now let’s go see what my brother wants.”  

“What?! Mycroft is here? Why didn’t you say so?! Help me get my sling on and some clothes. You berk.”  

Once they were both dressed in pajamas and dressing gowns, John wearing Sherlock’s clothes as he didn’t have any new ones yet, they left Sherlock’s room to handle Mycroft.  

 

\------------------- 

“Mycroft what are you doing here?”  

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as John appeared right behind Sherlock, wearing Sherlock’s clothes and presumably having slept in Sherlock’s room with Sherlock.  

“Brother mine, I am afraid I come with the most regrettable news. Believe me when I say I have all of my resources working on this and I will fix this.”  

It took Sherlock one moment to deduce what had happened.  

“HOW! How could you let this happen?! You swore to me Brother!” Sherlock was fuming, this couldn’t happen. Not now. Not when John was just starting to improve and they were getting somewhere close to a relationship. He started pacing frantically trying to figure out a plan.  

“Sherlock? SHERLOCK! What is going on? Stop and talk to me, would you?!” John seemed surprised and unsure.  

Sherlock turned towards John, his eyes took in John’s worried expression as he read the frantic look on Sherlock’s face. John spun quickly towards Mycroft.  

“Tell me what is going on and tell me NOW?!” John declared fiercely.  

Mycroft flinched slightly. “John, I am sorry to say that during transport last night Sebastian Moran was able to escape from custody and has disappeared.”  

Sherlock was seething as he continued to glare at Mycroft, crossing the room to stand in front of John. John’s breath seemed caught in his throat.  

Sherlock placed his hands on either side of John’s face. “John, look at me.. I won’t let anything happen.”  

“I know that, Sherlock. But I also don’t want you running off to sacrifice yourself again. Do you understand?” John’s eyes were filled with anguish as he looked up at Sherlock.  

Sherlock nodded before pressing his forehead to John’s. “Then we will handle this together. We are stronger as a team. Just the two of us against the rest of the world.”  

John smiled, placing a quick kiss on Sherlock’s lips. “Together. Yes.”  

Mycroft cleared his throat behind them. “My team is working on finding him as we speak. There will be a team stationed outside of the flat at all times and I have brought back John’s gun in the event the unexpected happens.”  

The two of them stepped apart turning to regard Mycroft and the offered gun in his hand. John reached out for the gun then slipped it into his pocket.  

Sherlock tried to think about what Sebastian’s next step might be. He needed to access his mind palace.  

“Do fix this Mycroft.” He said as he gave Mycroft a dismissing wave of his hand before crossing to the couch and flopped down, hands already steepled under his chin.  

Mycroft merely nodded turning to leave. At the door he turned back towards John.  

“If he was to show his face or try anything, you have permission to handle the situation as you deem fit. I do apologize for this failure on my part. It’s good to see you back to yourself. Good day, John.”   

With that Mycroft was gone.  

 

\---------------------------- 

 

John made his way to the kitchen to start the kettle, while he tried to wrap his head around the news Mycroft had brought.  He casted glance to where Sherlock was draped across the couch, deep in his mind palace. He made a vow to himself that Sebastian would never hurt Sherlock or him again, He wouldn’t allow it. He would be on his guard always until this was done.  

 

Several weeks past with still no Sebastian.  

John had healed nicely, he no longer limped and his cast had just been removed from his right arm. He had gotten a haircut and new clothes, shortly after they had found out that Sebastian had escaped.  

With the cast off, John felt like himself again.  

Sherlock and his relationship has been slowly moving forward, they continued sleeping in the Sherlock’s bed after that first night home, neither wanting to be apart again. There were lots of soft cuddles and kisses as they spent their nights wrapped up in each other's arms.  Both wanting to take it slow and wait until John was fully healed.  

John had stopped at Tesco on his way home from having his cast removed, to pick up wine, so they could celebrate tonight. He also called their favourite chinese place to order takeaway and asked for it to be delivered around dinner. He smiled at the anticipation the night held for them as he climbed the 17 steps to their flat.  

He had heard Sherlock playing his violin before he even entered the building. The sound was so soothing and filled with comfort and familiarity. John paused at the door just to listen before placing his hand on the door handle.  

John had been enthralled with Sherlock’s playing that he hadn’t noticed the shadow on the stairs to the second bedroom. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.  _Damn she was so quiet, how did she keep managing to get the jump on him._ He heard the telltale click of a gun, before he saw it.  

“Oh poor John. You never see it coming, do you?  No wonder he didn’t take you with him.”  

John could hear the sneer in her voice. Sherlock’s playing never stopped.  _Maybe he could..._  

“I don’t think so John. Open the door so we can join the party. Your boyfriend is waiting for you.”  

 _Sherlock._ John’s heart sunk as he opened the door, stepping in to the sitting room. The music was still playing, but it wasn’t Sherlock playing. Well it was, but it was a recording of him playing. Sherlock sat tied to kitchen chair in the middle of the room. He raised his head as John entered. He had a split lip that was bleeding and blood on his cheek from a cut that came from being punched hard.  

John felt the angry swell through him.  _How dare they lay a hand on Sherlock. This time they would pay for what they did._  

John felt a murderous smile creep across his face. He was ready.   

 

\---------------- 

 

Sherlock lifted his head as the door opened and John stepped in, followed by the woman. He cursed himself again for getting caught by surprise thinking she was a client. He took in the look on John’s face, first he was upset that Sherlock was bleeding, then the look turned to something else.  

Something dangerous. John smiled. Not his happy smile or sad smile or the smile he gives Sherlock when he has done something adorable.  

This was John’s (I’m going to kill you slowly and enjoy every moment) smile.  It was both terrifying and beautiful to witness. Sherlock’s heart swelled with the love he felt for this menacing man standing before him. Everyone always underestimated this gorgeous, quiet creature that was the most intimidating, fierce person when he was angry.  

“So where is the great Sebastian? Or are you just doing his dirty work again?” John questioned, looking around the flat.  

“He will arrive once I text him it’s all clear.” Mary supplied.  

“Well then by all means text away. You already have Sherlock tied and a gun on me.”  

Mary eyed John with suspicion, but preceded to put her phone out of her pocket and construct a text.  

John turned towards Sherlock giving him a small nod.  

Suddenly John swung the wine bottle in his hand at Mary with such force, catching her out stretched gun hand, sending the gun flying, as he drove for his chair, pulling his own gun out.  

In a matter of seconds, the tables had turned leaving Mary clutching her empty gun hand and John pointing a gun at her head. Sherlock could only sit there watching it all happen.  

John was magnificent. Sherlock wanted to snog him senseless right there.  

John leaned cutting the ties that held Sherlock, never moving his gun from Mary’s head.  

Sherlock quickly picked up the phone Mary had dropped and checked the messages.  

 

 **Sent**  

 **I have them both. Coast is clear for you to arrive. Back door open.**  

 

Sherlock pocketed the phone before grabbing his own off the coffee table and calling Mycroft.  

“We have Mary now and Sebastian is walking in to our trap. I will let you know when to move forward.”  

“Noted.” 

Sherlock hung up and moved to turn off the recording that still played. It was smart on her part to give the allusion that everything was normal in the flat for John. Though had she known anything about Sherlock’s playing, she would know that he always stood in the window and played while John was out. So, he could always see John return and John could see him. John knew this.  

This had been part of their scheme. Now to wait for Sebastian to appear.  

 

\---------------- 

 

John finished tying Mary to the chair Sherlock had just occupied, before turning and pulling Sherlock in to his arms.  

“I’m so grateful that you are ok. Let me look at your cheek.”  

“Don’t worry, John. It’s only a scratch. I’m okay.” Sherlock’s voice was filled with affection as he placed a hand on John’s cheek.  

John leaned in to his hand. “That was close Sherlock. We have to be a step ahead of Sebastian from now on.”  

“John, I -”  

John heard the bullet break through the window a second before the noise. In the next second, he had Sherlock under him on the floor and his gun pointed at the single bullet hole through the glass.  

“Sherlock? Are you all right?” John asked, never taking his eyes from the window.  

“Yes, John. I am all right. I can’t say the same for Mary.”  

John turned his head taking in the scene next to them. Mary was slumped in the chair not moving with a single bullet hole through her chest.  

 _Well fuck._  They had planned for everything, but not this. Or had they. John looked down at the gleam in Sherlock’s eyes.  

“Did you know he would do this?  

“Not this exactly, but I knew he would be watching. He is a sniper John.” Sherlock pulled his phone out of this pocket quickly. 

 

Sent 

 **Move now. Across from flat. SH**  

Received 

 **Action is already being taken. MH**  

 

Sherlock showed the message to John. “Mycroft has his uses. On the rare occasion.”  

“You had this all planned out. Where you planning to let me in the plan at some point?” John shook his head.  _Again, Sherlock moved forward with plan that put both their lives in danger and had giving no thought to let_ _ting_ _John know._   

“John, I know how this must seem.”  

“Do you? Do you see what you did there once again, Sherlock?” John was standing now, hands on his hips trying not to chin Sherlock for once again leaving him out.  

“John, my one and only intent is to keep you safe and protected and I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that. Even if I have to take action in a way you would not approve. If it keeps you safe, I will do it always.”  

John could only stare at Sherlock while he spoke. Sherlock’s eyes were brimming with affection and concern as he stood close to John, but not touching him.  

“I love you too, you git. I just wish you wouldn’t leave me out of the loop all the time. I would prefer to be in the know.” John closed the distance between them, grabbing the lapels of Sherlock’s dressing gown and pulled him down in to a crushing kiss.  

Sherlock pulled back after a moment, breathless. “I do love you, John. I have since the beginning. I just never knew how to tell you before.”  

John smiled up at him with such love. “So, do you think Mycroft has this taking care of yet?”  

 

\--------------- 

 

Two days later, Sherlock bound up the stairs into their flat. It was done. Everything was finally over. Sebastian had died in a fire fight with Mycroft’s agents. Mycroft had then taking care of removing Mary’s body from the flat, so the flat looked once again as it did before. Mycroft had apologized once more for Sebastian getting free and putting John and Sherlock in the line of fire. 

Life was back to normal at 221B. Well almost. John was still a bit upset with Sherlock over everything that had happened over the past two years, but he was working through that. It would take time.  

 But tonight, tonight was going to be theirs. Finally, they were both healed and there was no longer a threat of death hanging over them.  

Sherlock opened the door to their flat to find John cooking at the stove, there were candles on the table and dishes already laid out for them.  

“Welcome back Gorgeous.” John said, looking up with a smile on his face.  

 _John. Beautiful, wonderful, brave, loyal,_ _magnificent_ _John._ At that moment, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to snog that man until neither of them had air left in their lungs. He started towards John with the intent in his eyes.  

“If you start this now, dinner will be wreaked and we will have to get takeaway later..”  

“Then we will get takeaway.” Sherlock purred as he reached John pulling him against his chest, pressing hot kisses across John’s neck and jaw.  

John dropped the spoon he was holding, wrapping his arms around Sherlock, as he moaned in to his shoulder. “God, your voice. I have no power against that voice or your lips and those hands.”  

Sherlock smiled in to John’s neck. “Then give in to me.” He whispered, placing a kiss right behind John’s ear.  

“Oh god yes.” John moaned as he started snogging Sherlock with such desire and passion.  

They slowly moved towards the bedroom without breaking apart, removing clothes as they went and bumping in to everything on the way. By the time they reached the bedroom they were giggling at the clumsy maneuvering through the kitchen and hall.    

“That seems easier in the movies.” John giggled, throwing a wink at Sherlock as he did.  

“Yes, well movies rarely portray real life John. They are merely there to show unreal circumstances and make people feel inadequate-”  

“Ok, I get it. No need to keep slandering movies. You berk.” John laughed as he pushed Sherlock through the bedroom door, closing it behind him.  

 

The End  

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story. Leave me a comment if you did or let me know on twitter @octoberisblue or tumblr @bluebuell33. Thank you.


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